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Well, that should be impossible. I know just what they feel. (In practice – well, I don’t know why, That isn’t quite the deal.) My magic peaks their feelings, that’s where a Gig should start. The rest is when they sing for me, and show what’s in their heart.

But sometimes what they sing
Means they don’t know.
It’s one way shows can end
With a warm glow.

The songs are intended to show,
Secret thoughts,
So their listeners will know,
What’s the part,
That they hold in their heart
(that’s entertainment.)

The plot may be win or defeat
And the tensions,
can build up some heat,
And the subtext
can really be neat,
That’s entertainment

I’ve sometimes had Gigs
Where the villain can’t sing,
(A great glowing eye-ball
That wanted a ring!
Ain’t that a Hellava thing?
But they all went to glory
And that’s another story!)

A queen may have called me to say,
She wants out,
And she’s going my way,
Happy endings, and then out to play,
The last act’s the thing,
and then who may sing?
That’s entertainment.

Muse, "Sweet" the singing demon
Fandom, BTVS
Words, 184

TM 304 What are you hiding from?

This time the old demon turned away in disgust, saying,
“I hide from nothing.”

It's true, of course. He’d be the first to tell you that deceit isn’t his theme tune at all. Almost all his magic is in the service of truth.

Oh, the Gigs have their perks and some of the songs are a pleasure in themselves, but the real meaning of it all is the truth at the heart of things. The world turns and the scenes change; scripts that were clichés in one reign are unthinkable by the next.

All the cast have different secrets, all have different viewpoints and different parts to play – and so there are all the myriad songs. He loves that part of his work. He’d be the first to tell you that he finds his role a lot more entertaining than some of the cast find theirs!

All those years spent pursuing truth and setting the stage to find it. The years aren’t endless, even for him, and every thinking creature has some equivalent of the thoughts that breathe chill in the lonely hours of the night. Time touches us all, growing, changing, blighting. Beauty withers and the finest voice grows breathy and quiet. Nothing lasts. Love and hate, tears and friendship and laughter; Nothing lasts.

He hasn’t always had a queen, but he has a kingdom and his own place. Nothing can reach out frozen claws when the nights grow long there and the music is hushed.

After some Gigs he can find himself thinking that music is not the worst way to drown out ... nothing.

Muse; “Sweet” the singing demon
Fandom; BTVS
Words 268

Answer a question that no one will ask?
Heh, now you’ve set me a Hell of a task!
They’ve asked me my name!
And my age and my race
They’ve asked if a shape-changer
Chooses his face.
They’ve asked what I gain,
They’ve asked how I could lose!
They’ve asked if I’ve ever
Wished that I could chose.
They’ve asked if I’m bound to my task
Or I’m free!
There’s nothing they’ve never asked me!

They’ve asked if the Minions
Are puppets or “real”.
They’ve asked if I really can
Know what they feel.
(Yeah I do, but not why
‘Cos that isn’t the deal.)
There’s nothing they haven’t asked me!

I’ve been asked what I do
When not dancing my role.
I’ve been asked if my kind
Comes equipped with a soul.
I’ve been asked if I’m evil
And asked if I’m good!
I’ve been asked if I do
keep the Lore as I should!
Even asked if my songs are original! You see?
There’s nothing they haven’t asked me!

Muse; “Sweet” the singing demon.
Fandom; BTVS
Words, 171

Looking for the minions who went missing ain’t as easy as you might expect. The trouble is that they probably got caught by a misrouting dimensional portal. As far as I know they started out from Los Angeles. That makes it difficult.

For one thing, a lot of the people there are pretty self-centred. The ones who are making a good thing of living there don’t notice much. Their minds are on botox, bonuses and the next contract, so that’s what they sing about. It can be great if you’re looking for a profit. There are those who look out for my Gigs just to hear what’s really going down on the stock market. They sing about sex and their relationships, too, but you get that anywhere. They don’t sing about a couple passing strangers walking into the wrong hole in the air and vanishing.

Some of the rougher types tend to notice things more. It’s a survival thing. Predators notice the prey and the prey types had damn well better notice all they can; they live longer that way.

The trouble is, there’s a spell on one of the areas of LA where most of the portals operate. It radiates from an old hotel where a bunch of white-hats took up residence. Most of the operatives know about it. It’s a kind of ward cast by an old paranoia demon who used to hang out there. He worked his shtick by convincing people that the world was out to get them. Someone getting them to sing true don’t always help with that.

That spell makes them tone-deaf. Humans that hang about there too long sing like … I don’t have a word for it in this language. It’s that bad. You ever hear that guy Angel sing?

My kind speculate about whether this place could be a hell-dimension. Well, I’m looking for someone right here in the wrong part of LA and I could tell them…

This is Hell.

Muse, Sweet the singing demon.
Fandom, BTVS.
Words, 329

It’s never easy to get exactly the right Minions, and I hate it when I lose any. That doesn’t happen as often as you might think, even though my Gigs can be dangerous.

I worked out a routine long ago. The job description says a lot about dancing (in and out of costume;) but it don’t say much about fighting. That can happen, too.

( {Firewalled against all who mean harm, See the words, obey the charm.}  )They’ve got talent enough to recognize me anywhere.

Muse, “Sweet” the singing demon.
Fandom, BTVS
Words, 400.

Passing, 294.

Just smoking through the town,
Seeking what to do.
Starting up a Gig,
And some songs are due.

Smoking through the town.
Passing through their dreams,
Humans usually lie,
Nothing’s what it seems.

I need information,
So they’re likely to sing true.
It’s just a way station
And I’m only passing through.

I’ll be leaving soon,
Smoking out quite fast,
Leaving them behind,
In the fading past.


I was barely humming the tune, sifting through the streets looking for the targets. There’d be people with secrets and people with destinies; somebody must have made the summons. Another day, another Gig. Everything changing and everything the same. I didn’t realise where I was until I saw the name of the place on a fading signboard, and remembered.

The last news I had of someone was that they’d passed through this town. It wasn’t part of the Gig but I knew I was going to look for them, even though I didn’t know if they were alive. The place had the same time as the right town, but I didn’t even know if it was in the right dimension.

I know what I want. Getting it could be a challenge.

Muse, “Sweet” the singing demon
Fandom, BTVS
Words, 190

It just hasn’t worked out that way, lately. In theory every Gig ought to end with me taking someone out of their own world and away into my kingdom. I fly off with my queen and that’s the happy ending – in practice it doesn’t always even make me happy.

In practice, I’m supposed to take the one who summoned me, (or their first-born, if we’re working according to the old lore.) Yeah, I’d love to hear a real hot number from the character who thought that one up.

So far, this century, I’ve been called by a very old Nun with perfect pitch; (her idea of a happy ending was a real eye-opener.) There were a couple of bikers who sang the summons for a bet, (and that pair weren’t about to produce any first born children, either – they sang several duets about why they’d rather ride pillion.)

There were – hell, now I think of it, the last person I took out of their world was when I was recruiting that last minion. I guess this dimension is getting old.

Muse, “Sweet” the singing demon,
Fandom, BTVS.
Words 181

That year? According to the computer it would have been the Year of the Snake.


Snake people enter a room and there is Music, Music, Joy! Everyone dances! Such high spirit! The Snake is so intense and passionate, just as likely to take out the castanets as to climb mountains of snow.

Snake year people are charming and romantic, often planning delightful hideaway surprises. Possessing tremendous wisdom, they are deep, quiet thinkers, calm by nature, but most intense. They often get involved in great causes, bigger than life, and often serve as mentors to the young. To paraphrase Confucius, they have a kind of inner beauty that arises, hovers, then comes to nest. They will have an abundance of good fortune and a long and prosperous life.


http://www.tuvy.com/entertainment/chinese_horoscope.htm

I sometimes wonder who compiles the Topics,
Last week they wanted me to spread good cheer!
Oh well, this one's predictable (and boring.)
I'd cast my magic and I'd wait and hear

and I would ...

Let them entertain me,
Let them show a spark.
They can sing about their sorrows here.
What’s made life so dark?

They can sing their sorrows
They can sing their rage.
Maybe I should do a TV show,
Kind of problems page?

They can do a number,
Let the whole thing out,
Once the Gig has started, all can sing,
Time to twist and shout.

They can tell their secrets, bring them to the light,
There can be some numbers, now and then,
When things turn out right.

Melodies can swing on, get those thoughts in rhyme,
Guess I’ll get them started, maybe mock,
Sure the audience can get a shock,
Once the dancing starts the joint may rock -
And we’ll have a real hot time!

Muse, “Sweet” the singing demon,
Fandom, BTVS
Words, 163

That’s a crazy human question,
And I guess I ought to say,
Cultures just ain’t everlasting,
Laws can change from day to day.
And I’d quess I’d have to say
When I look back,
That it ain’t too easy
Even to keep track.

That’s a true song. I was listening in at a University, one time, and a student asked a Lecturer whether it's true that there’s nothing that’s illegal in one culture that hasn’t been legally enjoined upon the population of another. The guy she asked was a Criminologist and he thought for a long few minutes before he told her that blasphemy and treason were always illegal, but everything else that’s been banned in one culture has been enforced in another.

He was almost right, but if she wanted a more accurate answer she should have asked a historian – or a real old demon. There’s been cultures that downright encouraged blasphemy.

I guess that, for humans, it’s okay to break the law when the consequences of keeping within the law are worse than the consequences of breaking it; when you’ll starve without that stolen loaf. Take care, though, the law is usually rougher on the poor who steal from hunger than on the rich who steal from greed. I guess it’s always okay if you can get away with it - if the law won’t hunt you down or your conscience give you a real hot number over whatever you’ve done.

"Sweet" the singing demon

Fandom, BTVS

Words, 243

Something that won't be discovered for at least 2000 years!

I sing as easily as I talk,
And dance as easily as I walk.
In theory my Gigs can be sung
In every place and every tongue.
(In practice, I might just admit
That ain’t the easiest part of it.)

Words are my talent, you’ll agree
I have a wide vocabulary?
But accents, dialects and such,
And jargon – humans add too much!
A language should be growing, live
But you add slang and all that jive!

Communications syncopated,
Shouldn’t be too complicated
Some songs are sophisticated,
Some tunes turn out addle-pated,
One Queen was emancipated
Gig was as anticipated
Hell, she wasn’t educated
but that can be over-rated,
Accents are comunicated,
And my talent's just as stated.

I guess the real answer is that I can listen in most languages and even write in some, but the way I speak them is going to depend on who I’ve been hanging around with. It the Queen’s got an accent I can pick it up quite fast – and lose it, eventually, when things change.

Muse "Sweet" the singing demon,
Fandom, BTVS
Words, 169

Funeral Plans?

How should I know that? I won't be there!
If I'm the corpse, then how can I care?
I got no plans for this anytime soon.
Have you a prophecy? Show me the rune.

I been around for a helluva time,
Hearing the music and adding the rhyme.
Nothing's for always and even iron rusts,
Planets have ended in novas and dusts.

I'll tell you true as an operative could,
Sometimes a Gig doesn't end as it should.
Sometimes the show has a different last act.
Sometimes an operative doesn't come back.

If I don't dance to the end of the show,
Those who might grieve - why, they ain't gonna know.
One day the dark takes the last of the song.
When there’s no show then they’ll know that I’m gone.

There’ll be the last act, the last curtain falls.
That one last time there’ll be no curtain calls.

Muse; “Sweet” the singing demon,
Fandom; BTVS
Words, 150

I never was crazy on zombies. I remember when Wolfram and Hart tried to hire me for a Gig over in L.A. They offered to supply a zombie chorus line. (The shtick there is that their staff don’t have no, “until death do us part” clause in their contracts. They can die on the job, but they can’t just lie down and quit. I guess there are worse things than having to marry whoever picks up my talisman and starts chanting the right tune, after all.)

I turned them down flat. There ain’t no way I’m working with zombies. Most of them can’t sing worth a damn. They can’t dance, either; if they do a high kick or even a quick tap step their legs drop off. The only good thing about them is that the mummified ones burn real easy, but the customers need working glands and so on to build up a real head of emotion and zombies sure as Hell don’t have that.

So, what I’d do in the case of a zombie apocalypse is smoke right on out of there and listen to the witness arias later. Much later - maybe decades.

Muse; “Sweet” the singing demon,
Fandom; BTVS
Words, 196

Schadenfreude? That's entertainment!

My Gigs,
are the kind of show,
That leave some,
With a very warm glow,
And I say,
As I bop on my way –
That’s entertainment!

A heart,
may be broke at the start,
Set to heal?
That depends what they feel,
And I say, as I swing on way,
That’s entertainment!

The ending may be set
For nobody’s child,
It may be romantic,
Or rather too mild,
The whole thing could just go wild,
When a song starts out joking,
But ends up hot and smoking!

They may,
start with fury and ire,
Or they may,
sing of who they admire.
In the end,
someone walks through the fire!

The world is my Gig,
My Gigs are a world of entertainment!

The Gig’s are my shtick and they’re really enjoyed,
Or else I might be just a little annoyed!
Who wants to rhyme Schadenfreude?
That just don’t sound appealing,
Though I sure know the feeling.

Happy ending’s
The rule for the day
Though I do
like a firework display,
and I sing,
as I dance on my way,
The world is my Gig!
My Gigs are a world
Of entertainment!

Muse; “Sweet” the singing demon.
Fandom, BTVS,
Words, 191

Everyone says that they’re watching the watchmen,
I gotta say that ain’t my style at all.
Policemen can sing just like anyone passing,
I tend to listen – that can be a ball.

For instance -

When a policeman’s out engaged in his employment,
(his employment)
And proceeding down the south side of street,
He may gain some quite professional enjoyment,
By checking out the people he may meet.
He may have spent the night before out drinking.
He’s maybe got some lager in a can,
But in my Gigs he’ll sing just what he’s thinking,
In just the way of any other man…
(any man)
When a Gig is on the go and brewing fun,
(brewing fun)
A policeman’s lot can be a tuneful one.

He may sing about a burglar’s white-haired mother,
(white-haired mother)
And how he had to take her off to jail.
He may sing about a sister or a brother,
(Or a brother)
And hope they’ll soon be coming out on bail.
When a burglar’s finished fencing off his takings,
He’ll maybe light a candle at the church,
But the policeman never puts aside his duty,
And may feel virtue’s left him in the lurch,
(in the lurch,)
After years of seeing crime that ain’t no joke,
(ain’t no joke.)
A policeman can lose track of honest folk.
(Honest folk.)

As he walks the beat his eyes may stray a little,
(stray a little)
If he sees a girl he thinks is quite a looker.
But the job can really make his feelings brittle,
If he knows the rap sheet says that she’s a hooker!
There’s the sweet kid who is shoplifting for lipsticks,
The addict who is panting with the pangs,
And if his beat is walking on a Hellmouth,
The girl may have a lovely pair of … fangs!
(Pair of fangs!)

After years of working as a harness bull,
(harness bull.)
A policeman’s job can make him cynical.
(Cynical!)

Muse, “Sweet” the singing demon.
Fandom, BtVS
Words, 326

They ain’t pets! I’ve sometimes had to explain that to my own kind, but why would humans think they are?

Okay, they meet some of the definitions. Some of them are creatures from an inferior species – or if they ain’t you’d never know it. Some of them can’t communicate with me worth a damn.

I knew one girl who was into keeping pets and she taught me a word - a “rescue” pet. She rescued strays, so she sang. Well, okay, some of them are rescues. I guess you might say some of them are pedigree. Some are real fancy, some come from working lines; some were bred for sale, or they might as well have been. One or two have been real wild.

As for whether I’d want more, that ain’t up to me. If you’ve read this journal much you'll know the deal.

Get the talisman,
Then invoke me in rhyme.
There’ll be dancing and singing
And maybe a real hot time …

I guess you know the rest. Me, I just work with what’s there – another day, another Gig.

Muse, Sweet the Singing Demon.

Fandom, BTVS

Words, 180.

People who think they can outsmart demons are usually riding for a fall.

( more )

Muse; “Sweet” the singing demon.
Fandom, BTVS.
Words, 448.